


Empty Chairs

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When the time has come…when the fight is done, they won, but Castiel is all that is left.   Inspired by "Empty Tables" from Les Miserables.





	Empty Chairs

_There's a grief that can't be spoken.  There's a pain goes on and on. Empty chairs at empty tables. Now my friends are dead and gone._

Castiel stood in the library of the bunker.  His face was all cut up, blood dripping from gashes all over his body, making little sounds as the blood fell and hit the floor.  His beloved trench coat was sliced to pieces, his hands were covered in bruises and his angel blade hung in his hands.  But none of that mattered. 

 

He let the emptiness sink into his body as he dropped his blade.  His eyes trained on their favorite table.  His eyes filled with tears as he realized…they would never sit there again.  Sam and Dean.  He tried so hard.  The fight was won, but his friends were lost.  He poured every ounce of his grace into their bodies, wanting to bring them back.  He screamed and cried and prayed…but the Winchesters were gone.  And they weren’t coming back.

_Here they talked of revolution. Here it was they lit the flame. Here they sang about 'tomorrow, and tomorrow never came._

He stared at the table in the library, where Sam’s computer was still sitting.  Where a half drunk beer was out, from Dean getting up in a hurry and leaving it behind.  Cas closed his eyes as the silent tears fell from his face.  He had not known true friendship until them…and now he had nothing.  No heaven. No family. No place to call home. 

 

Because he couldn’t stay here…there were too many memories.  He looked at the table and remembered how they were so excited for this hunt.  A new monster, a new threat, but they knew how to stop it.  What they needed to do.  After this hunt, Dean had said they should go on a trip, maybe Las Vegas…Cas had never been.  And now he never would.  He would never step foot in that city, not without his friends by his side.

_From the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn, and they rose with voices ringing._

He moved through the bunker as each of his memories played before him.  His tears continued to fall, but he was too numb to notice. 

 

As he walked past the war room, he remembered when he told them about his first time having sex…how Dean giggled at his phrasing, his belief of ‘protection’ being his angel blade.  That giggle, his chuckles, his laugh…he would never hear that again.

 

As he passed their bedrooms, he remembered walking by and Sam folding his laundry while singing…it wasn’t the best singing, but now, as he recalled it.  Castiel thought that Sam had a perfect singing voice, and he wanted to hear it again. 

_I can hear them now. The very words that they had sung, became their last communion. On the lonely barricade at dawn._

Castiel looked up and sent out another prayer to his father.  “Please…just once more…”  His body let out a sob, shaking as he put out a hand on the wall for support, trying to keep himself upright.  “Just bring them back…just once more…” 

 

He pushed himself along, pausing outside his own room.  He remembered when Dean had brought in extra pillows to make a ‘fort’.  Castiel hadn’t ever done something like that.  Dean said he had to do it at least once.  So did Sam, who brought the snacks.  They were always doing that…letting him do things he had never done before…he wished they hadn’t let him do this…to feel such deafening grief.

_Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me, that I live and you are gone. There's a grief that can't be spoken. There's a pain goes on and on._

The guilt filled his body and heart as he made his way down the empty hallway.  Why did he have to live, while his friends were gone?  Why couldn’t he have just died with them?  At least then, he would have been able to guide them to their heavens, said a goodbye. 

 

But that wasn’t the case.  When he finally made his way through to the Winchesters, they were already gone.  There was no parting words.  No time for Dean to call him brother, for Sam to call him friend.  For him to thank them for everything…they were just gone.  No amount of grace, or prayer, was going to bring them back. 

 

Why couldn’t he have had that…just a moment…to say goodbye.  

_Phantom faces at the window. Phantom shadows on the floor. Empty chairs at empty tables, where my friends will meet no more._

Castiel slowly walked up the stairs, leading to the garage.  Each step came with more heartbreak, one more realization. 

 

Step.

 

He would never learn how to bake a pie, like Dean said he would show him.

 

Step.

 

He would never get to answer Sam’s questions about the start of the universe again.

 

Step.

 

He would never get to watch as the boys bickered about silly little things.

 

He made it to the top and pushed open the door.  He only made it a couple steps…

_Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me what your sacrifice was for. Empty chairs at empty tables. Where my friends will sing no more._

There…he saw it.  And he dropped to his knees as he sobbed. 

 

The Impala.  Baby.

 

She would never have Dean tune her up again.  He would never sit in the back as that music played, Dean singing off key.  Never again.  Never again.

 

He sobbed and pulled his body in on itself as he looked through the windows, and saw a shadow of Sam and Dean.  Dean bobbing his head to silent music, as Sam smiled and shook his head. 

 

They were gone.  What was he going to do?  All he had now had left was an empty bunker.  An empty car.  And an empty, broken heart. 


End file.
